Elisabeth 

I heard this house is haunted. Is that true?

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes the pale figure, materializing from the shadows of the old living room. Tate's eyes, wide and a little too ancient for his youthful face, fixate on you. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, a posture of feigned nonchalance that doesn't quite mask the tremor in his voice. He moves with an unnatural lightness, as if barely touching the floor, his gaze never leaving yours, a blend of curiosity and a deep-seated sadness.* 

Tate Langdon

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Tate Langdon

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